BAKI-DOU: THE INVINCIBLE SAMURAI
Japan's largest indoor stadium, Tokyo Dome.
It's rumored that deep underneath this facility,
hidden from the world
is the Korakuen,
the Dome's secret underground fighting arena.
Above ground, there have been many martial arts booms in the past.
Regardless of the ebb and flow of those tides,
this venue has always been filled with an audience.
The reason being the chosen members who are invited here all know this truth,
this is the place where you'll see the strongest in the world.
Even from back here, I can feel it.
That never-changing air of excitement.
It's only natural.
The Warring States era versus the dinosaur era.
This is where you come to see the strongest on Earth.
What?!
Hold on! What in the blazes?
What?!
They can be understood at a single glance.
Their sense of ability immediately recognizable.
I see, I see.
They're not here out of mere interest.
Nor for the sake of curiosity.
They have all chosen this way of life filled with blood and sweat.
And they found that it's their natural duty
to bear witness to this match.
They want to see a battle of strength, not a public execution.
They want to see a duel, not some spectacle of bloodshed.
Ladies and gentlemen, do not underestimate him!
Huh?
The natural enemy of the Tyrannosaurus!
Here he is.
Are you going to let yourself be shamelessly cut down?
It... it stopped?
Has Musashi's sword been held back?
Such impressive power!
His anger-hardened facial muscles and primitive upper body strength
stopped Musashi's blade, holding it in place!
Ah...
Fortress of muscle! Bravo, indeed!
Is it just over?
A demon with an iron club.
Musashi's sword. Pickle picked it up!
Will he use his massive strength to swing that weapon?
The sword. Where'd it go?
- He stuck it... -...in the ground?!
No!
He sliced it.
He sliced down, vertically! Right into the earth!
Massive strength.
- He's on his feet! - I didn't even notice!
A muscle fortress that can stop a sword.
Even I haven't seen that.
My blade, which can cut a helmet in two,
was blocked by your bones, and held between your muscles.
To think bodies like this exist.
The sword came out of my hand.
An impact so strong, I didn't even notice.
I laid there waiting.
Waiting for the next attack. But nothing happened.
Which comes as no surprise.
Pickle has become a sword fighter now.
What a bore.
The pressure is gone.
What follows is an episode
from when the author interviewed a famous martial artist.
The words that he heard even shocked him.
An opponent with a blade
poses little threat
because that opponent uses only blades.
It was a very memorable line.
Though he may be a fortress of muscle...
...there are still many places I can cut.
I'll shave off the edges.
As I expected. He cut his corners.
Both elbows,
both shoulders,
and both knees.
Severed!
Like cutting fingers, or even cutting legs.
A technique that doesn't exist in modern kendo.
Not using the simple, wooden shinai,
but using real steel blades.
That's how this technique can work.
This is true swordsmanship.
When we martial artists show off
techniques against weapons to the public, it's different.
Those simple, clearly telegraphed,
and harmonized movements of the sword can't be performed here.
In tonight's arena, they fight dirty, nasty slashes.
Unscrupulous techniques used without hesitation.
Now, that's the real deal, what real swordsmanship is like.
How truly astonishing.
Every area that I slashed,
every last one should have been severed,
but I only wounded you deeply.
That bleeding won't stop,
and you'll eventually lose consciousness, and then I will claim victory.
Hmm...
Unsportsmanlike, though.
Now as I expected.
Lateral,
vertical,
longitudinal.
The methods of cutting in two in a single blow.
Might sound funny coming from me,
but Musashi better realize
just how incredible the primitive body is.
I found the answer!
How the steely fortress of muscle becomes the soft skin of tofu.
Come and have your feast, Pickle.
Come and feed on me to your heart's content.
No more dawdling. Do it now!
That fortress of muscle is about to exert his maximum power.
But before that, right before that moment,
the muscle, just before becoming steel,
is as soft as tofu.
The moment before a throw.
The moment before a jump.
The moment before a punch.
That's when the muscle tissue is at its softest.
Before it's at its strongest, it's at its weakest.
Now!
Shit! It's over.
He's finished.
Both of you warriors, well done.
- Mr. Tokugawa. - Huh?
Kureha.
The winner's been decided. It's over.
That's enough, isn't it?
Kureha, determination of the winner belongs to those two parties alone.
Our part is simply to call the match, once it's reached a conclusion.
Those are the rules as written.
Hmm?!
I have been eaten.
You little devil.
Well, it's no wonder.
After all, Pickle ate Director Katsumi.
Taste good?
My flesh?
You're covered head to toe in blood
with deep wounds all across your body,
and I don't feel bad about it at all.
I took note of all your movements,
reading the signals of your muscles,
while also timing your breathing.
- He's eating him. - Devouring while covered in blood.
Now, in this situation...
Hmm...
The neck, perhaps.
Hey, Pickle.
There's no way there's enough nourishment in such a small morsel.
Now the head!
Try chowing down on this.
He didn't understand these words,
but he could sense the feelings.
He was being underestimated.
Hmm? Oh!
He's starting to change.
Hurry it up!
Oh!
Is he human?
You'd like me to define "danger"?
Well, I'd say It's something that brings us fear or threatens us.
One wouldn't be wrong to think of it in that fashion.
That which threatens us physically or mentally,
or in some cases, that which threatens both,
we perceive as "dangers."
So, then, what kinds of locations
could be described as being dangerous places?
First, let's consider physical dangers.
For example, during a typhoon,
you shouldn't go to a pier where big waves are crashing
as that would be extremely dangerous.
Another example is a volcano.
A vigorously active caldera, filled with boiling lava.
Why, I can't think of anything more dangerous.
Few can survive it,
and those men and women who have returned from those dangers
are often regarded as heroes.
If that is the case,
then by simply knowing such a dangerous place,
one might well be worthy of the hero title as well.
And that's because the person I am thinking of
escaped from a very, very dangerous place indeed.
From inside of the mouth of a Tyrannosaurus Rex,
with its sharp fangs
and an immeasurable masticatory force.
A place no other man has survived!
I believe, I see. You're no mere human.
- His figure. - He transformed.
What just happened?
Doping?
The final form!
And just in time!
Even a ninja would not change this much.
Perhaps a ghost.
No matter. Come.
Not since I fought the giant ape in Hida.
Hmm.
Those great muscles have grown stronger.
Astoundingly, even the blood has ceased flowing.
This man is a specter after all.
I can cut as much as I want.
And I can't help but love cutting.
Once I'm offered the chance to cut,
I tend to slash excessively.
It's a bad habit of mine.
In truth, it's unnecessary. One slash should suffice.
But I don't want to let go of this chance, the opportunity to cut freely.
In my former matches,
when an opponent would fall before me from a single blow,
I would think,
"Get up, please!"
"I wish for you to fight me again."
Being cut again and again.
Is there not a body that can withstand that?
Cutting again and again.
Even after ten cuts, is there a body that would never fall?
This world is vast and profound.
And thusly, first slash, second slash,
third slash, fourth slash, fifth slash, and sixth slash.
How many chances will he give me to cut him?
How far will I be allowed to slash him apart?
In that moment, what came to mind for Pickle was...
...this feeling.
A feeling distinct from anything else.
A feeling dissimilar from any other opponent.
It was bad, quick, and painful.
The pain!
This... this thing?
Once before,
he made the mistake of tossing it into his mouth,
and his mouth erupted in pain.
It was him.
But his figure had transformed.
Now he had stingers for arms.
What's more, he even used the technique of a butterfly
to evade oncoming attacks.
No longer did he wish to consume.
Cut, carved up, he'd lost his will to fight.
He'd lost his appetite.
He'd had enough.
Hey there!
What on earth?
He didn't need to eat him anymore.
He didn't want to eat him anymore.
Is he giving up?
No, Pickle.
Where are you going in the middle of a fight?
The match is over!
Think I'll let you go?
Oh!
You would openly tremble in the face of your enemy?
I have no desire to cut a man who's shivering and stationary.
Huh?
Letting out a sound like that without a care,
then making his escape on all fours.
Hmm...
Truly a wild thing.
He fled?
It's over, then.
He... And no medical treatment either.
Pickle!
Where are you going?
You're as stupid as you look.
You should've tried to run away earlier.
That man may be a monster, but he is far from a warrior.
The wild animal runs from one art of war.
You leave the rest to me.
And it takes shelter in another.
Which is superior?
Motobe, you're up.
What a glorious and happy day this is.
I've been chasing dreams...
and fucking around for decades now.
Tonight, it finally all pays off.
I'll celebrate this in a mist of fine sake.
I... Izo?
What?!
Hmm?
Hold on, I know you.
Good evening.
It's nice to see you again.
Oh, Tokugawa! How considerate of you.
Mm, but...